Not on the Piano
by 8moonflower8
Summary: Roderich is pissed with the BTT. Gilbert is pissed right back until he sees those magical hands on the violin. T to be safe.


Gilbert was pissed.

Not in the 'holy crap I should NOT have had that last beer' kind of way. No. He was pissed in the 'why the hell do Austrians always have to piss on my fireworks' kind of way.

He hadn't even done anything. Antonio and Francis had turned up for a few drinks, a fairly normal occurrence. They'd spent the best part of an hour seeing who could sing their national anthem the loudest. Antonio's effort was impressive, considering his had no words. This was also, fairly normal. Francis had managed to disappear completely for around forty five minutes. Again, they were used to this. When he had returned, he brought with him a giggling, slightly drunk, university student. This was practically a tradition. However, he didn't usually screw said student on Roderich's piano. Which is precisely what had happened. Turned out he wasn't too thrilled about the idea on Francis' butt prints on his precious instrument. Francis and Antonio had managed to escape before Roderich exploded. This left Gilbert to bare the wrath of a sleep deprived and thoroughly pissed off Austrian. He'd had to sit there for over half an hour while Roderich lectured him on proper manners and the sanctity of musical instruments, before smacking him upside the head and unceremoniously shoving him out the door.

He'd made the best of it; joined Toni and Franny for a lunchtime drink and to regale them with the terror of Roderich's rant about nineteenth century pianos not being appropriate for 'intimate acts.' This, along with Francis' very detailed account of said acts, put him in a much better mood.

The house was quiet when he got back. It smelt like pine and disinfectant. Roderich had clearly roped in Ludwig to help him clear up. Although Ludwig was probably more than willing to help. Gilbert swore his brother got more of a buzz from sanitising and alphabetising than sex. Or beer.

Yes, the house was quiet, but not silent. Thin, high notes were echoing through the halls. Gilbert rolled his eyes. Roderich had cracked out the violin. So he was still in a mood then. Instead of immediately turning around and leaving, as he would do normally, he followed the notes to their source, the soft notes becoming louder and fuller as he walked the tastefully decorated (by Roderich) hallways. At last he came to the drawing room, gently easing the door open. Then he stopped.

Roderich stood, facing him, across the room. His eyes were closed. Thin eyebrows (seriously, he MUST pluck those) in a frown of concentration, lips pressed together tightly. He cradled the violin under his chin, one hand skipping along the strings, the other holding the bow surprisingly delicately – the same way he held his cutlery at dinner. Gilbert was transfixed; lost in the beautiful sighs of the strings and quick movements of those hands. He'd never heard Roderich play the violin before.

"Gilbert?"

The music had stopped.

"Gilbert, what in heaven's name are you staring at?"

Roderich had stopped playing, and now stood glaring expectantly at Gilbert, the hand holding the bow resting on his hip.

"Well?"

Gilbert was pulled out of his trance. "I – I've never heard you play before." Well, nearly out of his trance.

"What on Earth do you mean? I play all the time you dolt." He rolled his eyes. "Now get out, let me vent my anger at you in peace."

"No."

"What? Do you have no respect at all?" He waved the bow at Gilbert. "You bring those delinquent drunks you call friends into my house, where they quickly become yet more drunk and reckless, show no regard for other people's belongings, drink the wine I've been saving for the past eleven years, then conduct orgies on antique musical instruments."

"I don't think it counts as an orgy – "

"No! Your friend's naked French behind touched my piano!"

"Roddy – "

"Don't try to worm your way out of this one you Prussian bastard. There's no excuse for – "

He stopped short as Gilbert crossed the room and grasped his hand.

"Roderich," he pressed a kiss to the Austrian's long fingers. "Would you play again for me?"

Roderich gaped at him.

"Close your mouth Roddy, a bug might fly in." He lightly kissed the mole by Roderich's lips.

A dull blush fell across his face as he tried to splutter out an answer. "I – well – fine."He settled back into frown mode. "But you're still cleaning my piano." He rested the instrument under his chin.

Gilbert laughed. "Whatever. I'd clean the whole house for a night with you and those hands."

"I may just hold you to that." And he winked.

It was Gilbert's turn to gape.

Hope you enjoyed Apologies for the OOC ness. Reviews are joy, but no pressure.

Thanks very much to people who've reviewed my other stuff, like **Pineapplecat** and **crocious**, and sorry I'm so crap at replying lol, but it is very much appreciated.


End file.
